The Last
by krystal-shi
Summary: (an IchiRuki AU one-shot, based on the Wong Fu Productions video on Youtube) Ichigo remembers how he came to holding Rukia in his arms that morning, and Rukia being Rukia, asks what he's thinking about.


**The Last**

World: AU

Rated: T

Summary: (based on the YouTube video by WongFu, "The Last") Ichigo remembers how he came to holding Rukia in his arms that morning, and Rukia being Rukia, asks what he's thinking about.

Disclaimer: IF I owned Bleach, I would fill it with so many IchiRuki moments, which would make it lose its original awesomeness. So Tite Kubo owns it. (I sure wish that he'd include some sort of *cough* romantic IchiRuki scene *cough* in it though…)

A/N: HAHAHAHA I KNOW, I HAVE NO ORIGINALITY. Please don't kill me. But I'm still struggling through crippling writer's block. This is going to be pretty long for a one-shot, but bear with me here. This was also meant to be with my fanfic "Ten Songs for Deathberry", but I realised that it just wouldn't fit. Also, if you guys haven't noticed, my writing is laced with the Australian spelling of things (i.e, spelling color as "colour", etc.), but that's only because I've been shouted at so many times for doing the American way out of habit. So now, I'm going to spell the way I want to. I do whatever I want.

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Ichigo looked at the petite woman in his arms and a smile graced his face without him even realizing it. Her hand rested on his chest, and her head was settled in the crook of his arm. There was a peaceful, serene look there that he didn't want to disturb. This was a crippling case of 'take a picture, it'll last longer'; he wanted to do it – his camera was only an arm's length away on the bedside table – but if he did, the click of the camera would wake her up. She would kill him, and his camera. He grimaced only slightly at the thought; his job was that camera. If, by some strange miracle, she didn't wake up, she'd know that he had a photo of her sleeping…and her reaction would be like hell on earth.

This woman, she was heaven and hell, rolled in one package. She was a she-demon and an angel; the umbrella stopping the rain and the sword piercing through his heart.

His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The simple motion made her stir, and his hand froze as her eyelids fluttered open to reveal deep, dark, indigo orbs.

"Hey," she said, huskily. They were both tired, but neither wanted to get up. But to him…she had never looked more beautiful.

He smiled and bent down to kiss her forehead. "I love you."

This made her pause. He wondered if he did anything wrong…or if he said it too soon. But she just smiled that smile, and it told him that she was going to ask him something that he probably wouldn't want to answer. "How many were there before me?"

He flinched involuntarily. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just answer, _baka_," she said, punching his chest lighter than she would normally do. "If you don't…I'll…I'll…I'll superglue Chappy on your camera!"

He groaned. "What is with you and that stupid bunny –," this earned him a smack to the head. "Ow! What the hell?!"

She puffed out her cheeks and got her head off of his chest. She sat up and glared at him. "Don't avoid the question, idiot. How…many did you love before me?"

He sighed. Of course she wouldn't let this go. "Fine." He contemplated for a bit…and smiled gently at her. "There were five."

"What were their names?"

"Are you going to hunt them down and kill them?"

She scoffed, as if insulted. "_Please_. I'm just…curious."

"Who, what, when, where, and why."

**.**

**.**

**Who **

"Who I loved," he started, taking her hand and making circular patterns on it with his thumb, "was a girl in college…"

_Ichigo wondered, for the millionth time that year, why and how he got the attention of New York Film Academy's "idol". He wasn't much to look at, considering that he had a scowl all of the time, and he didn't exactly have a pristine reputation, either. She, however, had gained every right to be called an "idol"._

_Her chestnut hair was always perfect. She had a wonderful personality – warm and giving and friendly – and never let popularity get to her head, because she always refused to acknowledge the fact that she had it. Males stopped in their tracks just to get a second glance at her hourglass figure and innocent face. Females envied the way she always walked with an extra spring in her step, and the radiance that she exuded all the time. Her grey eyes always, without fail, shone with the kindness that overflowed from her heart._

"She seems…perfect…"

"Shut up, idiot. Let me finish."

_She was like…the personification of everything a man could look for in a girl. But that's just what she was – a _girl_. No matter how much she tried to understand him, they both knew that she couldn't. And while they did love each other for a while, both realised that the difference between them was too great. He was only happy that he finally got what he wanted after 'the chase', but that was about it. He only loved the image that she made for herself in his mind, but after he got to know her…there was nothing that he found interested him._

**.**

**.**

**What **

He looked at her, and she looked curious. She didn't look hurt or anything. So he went on. "What I loved was an old friend from Karakura..."

_For a while, he immersed himself in work. Many women threw his feet at him, but he did not believe in one-night stands and booty calls, unlike his friend, Keigo. So it was his work that led to him meeting one of his oldest friends once again. She was a columnist, and he was a photographer, so it was inevitable for them to meet._

"Wait…is it…?!"

"Shut up, midget! It was years ago, okay?"

_They became instant friends, both in and out of the workplace. They met in a coffee shop, setting a certain day and a certain time for it, so that they could remain friends this time. They talked, and something…grew through all the recollections of their shared childhood. He remembered agitatedly how she always managed to beat him in their dojo, and she recalled how many times she had to haul his ass away from high school fights. They shared all the inside jokes…hell, they shared the most intimate details of their lives. He realised that she probably knew him more than any of his girlfriends in the past, and that…he might even want to be more than friends with her, too._

_But when the subject came up, he realised that it would never work. She was already engaged to a police officer, Renji Abarai. And he was too buried in his work to even realise it. He was far too late. What they loved about each other never seemed enough to leave Renji. _

_That day was never spoken of, and both remained friends. But it was with her that he knew what he loved about being in love. She reminded him of what he loved about that feeling, and gave him a reason to look for the person that gives him that feeling._

**.**

**.**

**When **

"When I loved," he said, pausing to bring her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, "was my first girlfriend…"

_He met her after saving her from a throng of fanboys from school. He did not take an interest in her at first, but high school was a time of innocence, and it was this innocent attraction that brought them together._

_She gave him a lot of firsts – first kiss, first time taking a girlfriend out to a carnival, first time appreciating the colour green, first time…defending her from a vengeful ex-boyfriend. It was a time where they thought that love could last forever, that what they did would be remembered by their future, wrinkly old selves. It was a time of youth and innocence._

_This didn't work out, of course._

_But he always remembered her, and that time, because it was when he learned what love meant, innocent and pure and young. _

**.**

**.**

**Where**

"Where I loved," he continued, "was a girl I met in university…"

_He was an up-and-coming photographer from Japan. He got a lot of attention for it, but he never felt out of place. And his confidence grew, as did his circle of friends and colleagues, and it was then that he met her._

_She was an all-American, blonder version of his college girlfriend, but that wasn't the only thing that attracted him to her. She was carefree, and she had her own share of a dark past. She was cunning and deceptive, but mysterious and alluring. He found himself being sucked into her world. He couldn't leave her._

_Maybe it was the thrill of being able to live on his own, or the lingering excitement of being far away from his crazy family and his crazier hometown. But after university finished, he eagerly accepted an internship from one of the most famous magazines in the world…just to be able to live near that woman that entranced him so. There was something in the air around her that attracted people to her like moths to a flame. And there was something whenever he _

_But months passed, and the thrill of being near her became nothing but an obligation. It was tiring to always keep up with her and with his life, and he found that she was holding him back._

_So he broke it off, accepted a promotion, and landed himself back in his own country again._

**.**

**.**

**Why **

"Why I loved," he started with somber eyes, "was a girl who was dying…"

_It was three years ago that he met her. She was another friend, an acquaintance, but he had never gotten to know her until he did a coverage with a journalist in a local hospice. He saw her, recognised her, and before he knew it, he had come to the hospice every day just to visit her._

_She was dying, and the one thing that she regretted not doing was falling in love._

_She had never experienced the rollercoaster of emotions that came with firsts, she had never felt the butterflies fluttering in her stomach whenever someone touched her, she had never felt the warmth of being in a person's arms. She had always been alone, in a way. She had never received, gived…or even lose love._

_But she taught him why he loved in the first place. She talked about how people never really looked for love, and sometimes, like her, never found it even when they looked for it. She talked about how some people waste their lives not even wanting to love in the first place, and how they wasted their lives because of it. When she died, he never forgot what she told him; it stuck with him, and she made him understand why people loved. Why waste your life not loving?_

**.**

**.**

She looked at him, and their joined hands, before smiling coyly at him. "Who am I then?"

"You," he answered with a grin of his own, "are the sixth."

"Eh? Which one is that?"

"You are none of them," he said. It made the smile disappear from her face, before appearing again when he said: "Because you are all of them."

He kissed each one of her knuckles. "You are who I love: the dream girl, the girl of perfection, the one who makes all my fantasies come true."

He leaned forward to kiss her nose. "You are what I love: the inside jokes, the unspoken bond, the words that don't need to be said, the memories…the best friend."

He kissed her blushing cheeks. "You are where I love: where my heart resides, the one I can't leave, the mystery girl who I make memories with wherever we go."

He kissed her forehead. "You are when I love: the youth, the vibrancy, the innocence, the young love we'll always remember when we grow old together."

Finally, he kissed her lips. "And you are why I love: the reason why I am who I am, the reason for everything, the one who makes me see reason when I can't."

"I love you," she said, her eyes sincere, her lips spread in a wide grin. He smirked.

"Tell me, then," he said, stroking the side of her face, "how many were there before me?"

"Five." She kissed him lightly. "Who, what, where, when and why…"

-END-

**A/N: **Well? Any thoughts? A link to the video: watch?v=JvxHPtEsmFc&list=PL7D8F6C9673794F3F&index=1

_Mr. Guest whose name I don't know_: Yes, uh-huh. Totally right. :)


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